


Anecdoche

by Eavenne



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Deconstruction, F/F, F/M, Gossip, Nyotalia, One Shot, One Word Prompts, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 17:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13816017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eavenne/pseuds/Eavenne
Summary: n. A conversation in which everyone is talking but no one is listening.When her sister bails on her, Marguerite goes alone to have dinner with her old high school friends – Françoise, Isabel and Julia.





	Anecdoche

**Author's Note:**

> Anecdoche  
> n. a conversation in which everyone is talking but no one is listening, simply overlaying disconnected words like a game of Scrabble, with each player borrowing bits of other anecdotes as a way to increase their own score, until we all run out of things to say.  
> (credits: The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows; as far as I know, this is a made-up word.)
> 
> This is yet another fic that was written for the Hetalia amino! ^^ I struggled with it for a while, but I quite like what I have here. This is a Nyotalia Human AU, where our POV character Marguerite (Canada) is two years out of high school (Everyone else but Amelia (America) is a year older) ^^ Enjoy!
> 
> (Don’t worry if the names are unfamiliar – I think I signposted fairly well, and anyway I feel like some confusion does add to the story. Names in brackets are Françoise’s (France’s) nicknames. Some other characters are mentioned but aren’t named, such as Nyo! Germany.) 
> 
> In the order of their first namedrop:  
> Nyo! France: Françoise  
> Nyo! England: Rosa Kirkland  
> Nyo! Canada: Marguerite  
> Nyo! America: Amelia  
> Nyo! Spain: Isabel Fernandez Carriedo  
> Nyo! Prussia: Julia (Julchen)  
> Nyo! Hungary: Daniel  
> Nyo! Austria: Anneliese (Anna) Edelstein  
> Nyo! Switzerland: Adelheid (Heidi) Zwingli  
> Nyo! Romano: Chiara Vargas

It had all started when Françoise flew back from France and invited them to dinner at a four-star restaurant.

Well, the offer had really just been extended to Rosa Kirkland. She had known Françoise since childhood, and briefly dated her over the summer – a self-contained fling that came to a happy end once the season had passed. Neither could stand the other, and everyone who had to suffer their ceaseless bickering unanimously agreed that it was for the best that their relationship didn’t continue. 

A year later, Rosa had started dating Marguerite’s twin sister, Amelia. It seemed that Françoise thought them an adorable couple, for she insisted that Rosa bring Amelia along whenever they went out. As an afterthought, Françoise would occasionally ask Marguerite to join them – an offer that was almost always declined, as Marguerite knew that she’d simply fade into the background as Françoise and her friends casually teased the couple. 

However, Françoise had offered to treat the three of them, and Marguerite wasn’t about to turn down a free meal, even if she wouldn’t be very involved in the conversation. After all, she could always just listen to the others without talking much – one didn’t always get the chance to eat good food at no cost, and it wasn’t an opportunity to be wasted. 

Besides, Marguerite hadn’t seen Françoise ever since the latter had graduated and gone to study in France. Back in high school, Marguerite could have sworn that she’d seen Françoise every day, even if they hadn’t exchanged words. 

Being in college had made Marguerite a little nostalgic for high school and the friends she’d made there. Once they’d graduated, most of them had drifted away from each other – it was a natural process, if a sad one, and so Marguerite simply watched her list of close friends dwindle and shrink. 

Two years had passed and she’d made new friends, but Marguerite supposed it wouldn’t hurt to get together with the old gang once more. Well, she hadn’t really been a part of their clique – even so, socialisation wasn’t a bad thing.

But when Marguerite found herself standing outside the restaurant, awkward and alone, she couldn’t help but regret accepting Françoise’s invitation.

Yet, Marguerite was already there, and for the sake of politeness, she was obliged to show her face. With a small sigh, she pushed the door open and walked in. Her white polyester-cotton dress rustled as she moved, and Marguerite couldn’t help but feel completely inadequate when she caught sight of her old friends. 

Even in her teenage years, Françoise had possessed an air of graceful elegance. The slightest of her movements could draw a room’s attention – wide-eyed audiences watched and wowed as Françoise’s long, slim fingers tucked a strand of golden hair behind a curved earlobe. 

It seemed that time had only strengthened her allure. When she caught sight of Marguerite, Françoise smiled, and slid forward in her chair in one smooth, soft movement. 

“I’m glad you could make it,” she said. Françoise’s voice was a perfect match for her silver silk dress – it flowed and shone, binding the listener to its music. 

Before Marguerite could reply, the woman sitting to the left of Françoise spoke up, filling Marguerite’s ear with a deep, contralto voice.

“Oh, is that Marguerite? It’s been so long!” It was Isabel Carriedo, one of Françoise’s best friends. Her dress of red velvet confidently displayed her bare, olive shoulders, and stretched tight across her large bust and wide hips. Even as a teenager, Isabel had looked mature for her age, leading to her considerable popularity among guys. Yet, she never seemed to have any interest in them, preferring girls instead. 

“It’s good to see you,” said Marguerite, sitting down and pushing her chair in. Staring at her, the girl to Françoise’s right arched an eyebrow.

“Wasn’t Rosa supposed to come? And what about your sister?” Julia asked, propping her elbow on the table and watching Marguerite expectantly. A mane of silver-blonde hair fell to her slim hips in a loose swathe, starkly contrasting her friends’ elegant buns. 

“They were,” said Marguerite, trying to hold back the exasperation in her voice, “but Amelia forgot she’d bought tickets for the premiere of that new superhero movie, so they went to that instead.” 

Françoise leaned back in her chair with a laugh. “Oh, Amelia. How adorable.”

“Why didn’t she tell us? If we’d known, I’d have gotten Françoise to cancel the reservations here and go with Plan A instead!” said Julia, folding her arms. 

When Marguerite looked at Julia in confusion, Isabel met her gaze. Her eyes were a deep, passionate green; they made Marguerite think of a pirate’s hoard of glittering emeralds, kept safe in some unknown cavern near the sea. 

“We originally wanted to go to a bar, but I remembered that Rosa was a terrible drunk, so I convinced Françoise to make reservations at a restaurant instead,” Isabel explained. 

“Oh.”

They decided on their orders after some discussion – Marguerite decided to get something on the cheaper side, since she wasn’t the one paying for it – and settled down to continue their conversation.

“It’s a pity that they couldn’t come,” said Isabel. She turned to Françoise with a smile. “Wasn’t there something you wanted to say to Rosa?”

“Right – I wanted to remind her that those twintails need to go. She looked adorable with them in middle school, but she’s in college now! Is she planning to go to job interviews looking like a kid?” said Françoise, ending her sentence with a dramatic sigh. Suddenly remembering something, she looked at Marguerite.

“They look good on you, though – very cute. Unfortunately, I don’t think Rosa can pull them off anymore,” said Françoise, her brows pressed together.

“Are you allowed to call Rosa ‘adorable’? She has a girlfriend.” With a smirk, Julia leaned forward, eyeing Françoise with amusement.

“Oh, Julchen! It’s not flirting if it’s true!” exclaimed Françoise, and her two friends laughed in response. 

Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Marguerite made a muffled attempt at a chuckle and looked away in uneasiness. She doubted Rosa would really care about being discussed in that way, but it still didn’t quite feel right to talk about others behind their backs.

That sort of thing was rather common back in high school – people discussing other people, and passing wild rumours like the flu. Françoise and her two friends had been some of the most popular girls, and engaged in quite a bit of gossip. Even so, Marguerite distinctly remembered that they had limits, and refused to spread anything too nasty.

It seemed that nostalgia had blinded her to the ugly side of those rose-tinted memories.

Not wanting to dwell on that realisation, Marguerite decided to change the topic. The three of them had graduated a year before her – it had been two years since then, so surely it would be safe to ask about Julia’s high school boyfriend?

“Are you still dating Daniel?” 

Julia froze mid-laugh. Silence fell – Françoise and Isabel shared a confused look before looking at their friend in mild concern.

Clearly, bringing up Daniel had been a great idea.

“Uh –”

“It was mutual!” Julia yelled. Heads flicked in their direction at the sudden outburst. 

“Okay –”

“I love being alone! It’s s-o refreshing, and, and liberating!”

“I’m, uh, sorry?”

“Don’t be sorry!” In one swift motion, Julia violently threw herself back into her chair, which tipped precariously backward before righting itself. Her eyes were bright with wild energy, and her toned white arms whipped the air as she spoke.

“You know who should be sorry?” Heeding her friends’ attempts to shush her, Julia lowered her voice obligingly, still clearly audible over the murmur of the other diners. 

“Um –”

“Anneliese Edelstein. She’s a –” Cutting herself off, Julia had the decency to cringe at what she’d been about to say before continuing. “She’s the worst.”

The hazy image of a dark-haired girl flickered before Marguerite’s eyes for a few wavering moments. “…Anneliese?”

“She dated Isabel for a month, then dumped her!” Julia exclaimed.

With a shrug, Isabel took a long drink from her glass. Lazily, her gaze swam from Françoise to Marguerite, before finally resting on Julia. “It was a fling. Didn’t mean much to either of us, really.”

“And then she had a sudden jolt of ‘compassion’,” continued Julia, curling two fingers to indicate quotations, “and dated…uh, what’s her name? You know, that blonde girl with the French braid and the little brother?” 

“Adelheid Zwingli,” Françoise supplied, looking at her nails. “Apparently they’re actually childhood friends, though, so I wouldn’t say that it came out of nowhere.”

Vague memories of a piercing glare and a wild rumour floated to the surface of Marguerite’s consciousness. Picking up on her confusion once more, Isabel turned to Marguerite. 

“There was rather persistent gossip that she was making lo – well, essentially, that Adelheid was in a relationship with her little brother,” said Isabel. 

…Yes, that _had_ happened. Even three years later, Marguerite could recall the disgust she’d felt toward the perpetrators of that awful rumour.

It seemed that Julia was of a similar opinion. Scoffing, she swung one toned leg over the other.

“Obviously, it was all bullshit. And, honestly, I get why she punched that girl who said it to her face. If someone said that about my sister, I’d probably react the same way.” Julia sighed. “It sucks that she was suspended for it, though.”

Slowly, Adelheid’s figure grew clearer in Marguerite’s memory. Yes – aloof, androgynous, athletic Adelheid, always jogging in the park in the mornings – Marguerite thought they’d occasionally met there, though the other girl barely spared her a glance. 

“And then suddenly she was dating Anneliese,” said Julia, “and then two months later they broke up. Isn’t it awfully convenient that Anneliese dumped her right after graduation?”

“Hmm…” Françoise took a sip from her glass. “Heidi’s quite proud, though. I don’t think she’d let Annie date her out of pity.”

“Maybe that’s why they broke up. Because she found out that ‘ _Annie_ ’ was dating her out of pity.” Julia rolled her eyes. “Or maybe it’s because Anneliese is practically in a relationship with her piano, and wasn’t spending time with her actual girlfriend. God, she should just get married to her damn piano already.”

Glancing around warily, Marguerite folded her arms tightly across her chest. If only the food would arrive soon – hopefully then, Julia would be less inclined to speculate about others’ love lives.

“Oh!” Suddenly, Isabel sat upright. 

“I know what this is about,” she accused – her aggressively green eyes gazed greenly into Julia’s, and a teasing smile played at her ruby-red lips.

“Huh?” Julia blinked indignantly.

“Is Annie dating your dar-ling Daniel?” Françoise’s musical voice dipped up and down with delicate tinsel inflections.

“No! Yes! I mean, he’s not my ‘darling’, but yes she IS dating him!” Julia exclaimed, flushing. She looked away, and for a moment the sad confusion was visible on her sharp features; but the moment passed, and Julia’s expression returned to one of haughty disdain.

Isabel chuckled nonchalantly. “Don’t worry about it,” she said vaguely, resting an elbow on the table and cupping her curved cheek with her hand. “Love will come to you eventually. Look at me! I found sweet Chiara.”

Julia’s surprise at Isabel dating a Vargas twin was drowned out by Françoise’s excited squeal – then their food arrived, and everyone took a taste and made a random remark. 

The three girls sitting before her had been so close in high school that Marguerite was amazed by how little they seemed to know about each other’s current lives. The fact that both Isabel and Françoise were attached was news to everyone besides themselves; the conversation became a ball game, passing between the three in quick succession – Isabel told silly stories about her girlfriend, Françoise commented on her boyfriend’s lovely nape and strong back, and Julia gushed about how adorable her sister was with _her_ girlfriend. 

It felt like she was drowning in a sea of names; there was simply no way to distinguish them, and so Marguerite turned her eyes toward her plate and ate in silence. Her phone bleeped, and she knew who it was and desperately wanted to respond, but Marguerite politely rejected her one chance to gasp for breath, and ignored her device. 

Her head sank beneath the water’s surface once more, but found only air – each glittering sentence hid the gaping holes that punctuated each word, a hollow echo of times past, a dusty recollection of a friend who was now a stranger. Had Marguerite really known most of the people she’d spent time with in high school? Had she truly grasped that everyone she saw was living their own life, a life as complex as her own?

Yes, she could imagine herself back in the school halls, making her way to her homeroom in the morning, pushing through the crowded corridors. Here and there she’d catch a familiar face – then she would wave and call out, only for the buzz of conversation to swallow her friend up once more, leaving Marguerite’s hand to hang limp in the air.

People dared each other to do silly things, and slapped each other on the back for jobs well done, and turned to each other, whispering, “ _Here’s what I heard…_ ” There was always something fresh, something new, something scandalous. Sometimes Françoise’s trio would be in the thick of it all, drawing boys and girls to them like crazed moths; other times, silent judgements and knowing looks assaulted Adelheid, who hid her pain in her pride. Perhaps Marguerite had always been aware of the goings-on in high school, but her lack of involvement led her to forget about it altogether. 

The conversation grew more animated, wavered slightly, rose up again for a few minutes, then died down once more. There were only so many times that they could talk about their colleges and dates, and as such the table settled into a shifting silence. 

When they finally left, the sky was dark and the moon was out. Isabel and Françoise and Julia looked at each other and laughed and said they really had to meet online sometime – then they went their separate ways, the promise hanging in the rain-soaked air like the musty residue of a passing smoker. 

Marguerite supposed she had been forgotten long ago. Somehow, that didn’t particularly bother her; as she walked down the street, she listened to the wingbeats of startled birds and the steady click of her shoes, and was reassured of her existence once more. 

Sliding her phone from her pocket, Marguerite woke it from its slumber. Yes, she’d been right about the person who messaged – and now it was time to answer her high school sweetheart.

Perhaps high school wasn’t as great as Marguerite’s nostalgia had misled her into misremembering – but it certainly hadn’t been meaningless. 

Two tones later, Marguerite’s girlfriend picked up the phone.

“Hey, Mar!” Though they were miles apart, Marguerite could glimpse the bright smile on her girlfriend’s face and gaze at her golden skin, which was gently illuminated by the yellow lights hanging overhead. 

She grinned.

“Sorry for the delay. Now, what were we talking about again?”


End file.
